


Forgive me

by wolfypuppypiles



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Sad, Team as Family, Whump, Worried Tony, Worry, dad tony, littelc claire cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 10:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfypuppypiles/pseuds/wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Tony thought that a botched mission and a fight between him and Peter would have been the worst thing to happen that week. He was wrong.(This is made up of three prompts so thank youuu)





	Forgive me

**Author's Note:**

> BIG thank you to Hanna and Emrys for encouragement and ideas and to Allison, for all the ideas and input she gave me you made this fic dope and so much sadder so thank you!!!!!
> 
> Also, thank you for the three people that sent in those prompts! I hope you like this!

“Don’t you EVER do that again!” Tony stormed inside the tower, Peter following behind from the landing pad outside. His voice was so loud even Steve winced as the Avengers all trailed in from their latest mission. 

Peter tried, once again, to explain. “They were going to shoot you!”

Tony whirled on him, face reddening with anger. “So, you gave yourself up?! You should have waited for the rest of the team to show!”

Peter rose his own voice despite the way it hurt his head to do so. “There were six guys all with guns trained on you! And the leader gave me five seconds to decide!”

Steve tried to interject, sighing tiredly. “Guys-”

Tony didn’t seem to notice the captain and continued on, infuriated. “It doesn’t matter! What you did was insanely dangerous! They could have killed you!”

Peter laughed incredulously, throwing his hands up. “It wasn’t dangerous! They weren’t going to kill me while they still needed information!”

Tony’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, hands spreading out in front of him as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Of course it was dangerous! They tortured you, Peter!”

Steve tried again to get their attention but his voice was drowned out by Peters as he tiredly rambled on. 

“Guys!”

“I mean, they tried to torture me. It didn’t work very well. They mainly just punched me a lot and you know I can take a hit. My face was so hard it broke one of their guys’ hand! They had to stop to get him some ice!”

Tony clenched his fingers into fists at his sides, stepping closer to Peter. “This isn’t funny! I told you not to go with them and you disobeyed a direct order! You could have gotten yourself killed! If you EVER do that again I will ground your ass TILL GRADUATION!”

Steve could see Peter's eyes narrow as he got angrier and wished they would just calm down and talk rationally with each other. He was about to step forward when Natasha took his arm, shaking her head silently. He knew she was right and that Peter needed to say what he needed to say, but it was still hard to watch. 

“You think I went in without weighing my options? That I just made a stupid decision without thinking it through? It was my cooperation or your life! I’m sorry that you thought I made the wrong choice but I’m sick OF WATCHING MY FAMILY DIE!”

The room went silent as Tony’s anger melted away and his eyes grew wide because shit. He hadn’t even thought about Peter's Uncle. Of course, Peter wouldn’t want him shot right in front of him. How could he have been so stupid? 

He reached out for the teenager, guilt pouring into his chest and his heart clenched painfully when Peter pulled away. 

“Pete-”

The boy evaded Tony’s grasp and stormed off to his room without another word, breaths coming as angry puffs. 

They watched him leave, Tony’s shoulders slumping as he pressed a hand over his eyes. “I screwed up didn’t I?”

Rhodey clapped a hand on his friends back, sympathetic but not surprised. “Yeah, sorry buddy. You’re going to need to go fix that.”

“I didn't mean to yell at him I just...I got scared. He just went with them and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t protect him and I know he was more afraid than he let on. They were hurting him, Rhodes and he let them. For me!”

His eyes found Rhodey’s, who was frowning, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, seemingly amused that the apparent genius hadn’t noticed. 

“Tony, buddy I don’t know how to tell you this but that kid loves you and there is nothing you can do to stop that.”

Tony threw up his hands, frustrated that he had gotten so emotionally entangled. “I just meant to mentor the kid and now I’m fathering him and I don’t even know how to do that! He needed a suit and I gave him one, and now I’m standing here feeling sick because of the way he looked at me when I yelled at him. How did it come to this?”

Rhodey wrapped his arm around his friends back, happy that Tony could at least admit that he’d adopted a child. “You could tell him what you told me? That today scared you and that you didn’t mean to yell. That you want him safe.”

Natasha patted Tony’s arm as she walked past, encouraging smile on her face. “You can do it, Stark. Go talk to him.”

It was easier said than done but Tony knew he couldn’t put it off. He felt awful, his stomach tying itself into knots at the image of Peters hurt face when they were fighting. God, what kind of monster was he to yell at the kid after he’d saved his life? 

Peter was in his room, having locked himself away when he’d run off and Tony could only stand in the hallway like an idiot and knock. 

“Pete, come on buddy. Let me in. We need to talk.”

All that came back was the grumpy, withdrawn voice of the teenager. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Tony sighed and tried again, resting his forehead against the door. He was so tired now that the adrenaline of the mission and the fight was wearing off. “You know I can override this door. Don’t make me do it.”

Peter scoffed from inside his room, sounding sullen and upset even through his snarky tone. “You know I can literally pick you up and throw you back out. One handed.”

Well, crap he was right. Tony lifted a hand to massage his temple, a headache forming as he tried, and spectacularly failed, to work things out. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. The mission was...it wasn’t supposed to go like that. I was supposed to protect you and I failed. You really freaked me out when you just went with those guys like that and I didn’t exactly handle it well. I’m sorry.”

He waited for a response, feeling stupid for begging for a teenager to talk to him. It was his tower and the damn kid was making him wait around in the hallway like some idiot. 

When he didn’t get a reply he sighed, annoyed, and squeezed his fingers into fists. He pressed them to the door to stop himself from punching it. “Fine. Stay in your room and sulk, but you are the one that went against orders, Peter! And don’t think I just forgot about you being smacked around by those thugs! I’m sending Bruce up and you WILL let him in or I will take this door off the hinges!”

That finally got him a response and he clenched his teeth as he heard something thump against the door where Peter threw it. “FINE!”

Tony clenched his teeth, unable to stop the immaturity from rising in him. “FINE!”

Geeze, teenagers were frustrating. It took almost all of Tony’s self-control not to slam his hand on the door or forcibly open it just to yell again. 

Instead, he took a deep breath and called out to his AI.  
“Friday, call Bruce. Let him know Peter needs a once over.”

“Yes, Boss.”

:::::::::::::::

Peter sat in his room and tried not to cry, hugging his pillow to his chest. Mr Stark had yelled at him for saving his life? How unfair was that? 

And he wanted to be mad, he wanted to pour out his anger by punching something or training but really he was just sad. He’d been scared too, of course, he had been but Tony’s life had been in danger! What was he supposed to do? Just let them shoot him? 

It wasn’t fair, getting in trouble and getting yelled at for saving Tony’s life! And sure, Tony had said sorry but that didn’t make him any less upset. 

It had all been too close to that night with Uncle Ben, except this time he had used his powers and no one had gotten hurt. Well, except him but he didn’t mind that. 

He wanted to talk to Tony and explain properly instead of that yelling thing they’d had going but he was too close to crying and Mr Stark thought he was enough of a child already. 

He sniffed, trying to push the image of his Uncle Ben out of his head only for it to replaced by the image if Tony in the same slumped, dead position on the street. 

He shook his head, trying to shake the image loose but it was stuck and his eyes began to water. 

“Dammit. Stupid brain, stupid Tony, stupid childhood trauma.”

He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to have another dumb panic attack over Ben. He threw his pillow across the room and pressed his hands to his eyes and ignored the way it hurt to do so. 

He sat there, forcing his ragged breaths to settle into some semblance of calm until there was a knock at the door. 

He almost told Tony to go away again before he remembered who it was and the doctor's voice came through the door. “Peter? Can I come in?”

Peter waved his hand and flopped back onto his bed, tired. “Yeah.”

Friday opened the door and let him in and Bruce quietly made his way over to the teenager. “Hey. I heard you had a rough day. You okay?”

Peter sighed, wiping his eyes despite their bruising. “No. Tony’s mad at me and I didn’t even do anything wrong and my face hurts and I have a headache and...today’s just sucked.”

Bruce hummed as he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged Peters hands down from his face, pulling out a penlight instead and sweeping it gently across the kid's face. “You know he’s not really angry, he just worries about you. You scare him when you’re reckless like that and he isn’t exactly good at having calm rational conversations. Do you have any double vision?”

Peter laid still while Bruce looked him over, trying not to sound petulant as he answered. “No, but the light hurts. And I wasn’t being reckless. I knew what I was doing. Just because he doesn’t trust me, doesn’t mean that he can-”

Bruce lowered the light, a sad frown on his face. “He does trust you, Peter. It’s just hard to see you in danger and not feel protective. It’s not just Tony that worries about you.”

Peter met his eyes for a second before his gaze fluttered away, voice quiet. “I can handle myself. I’m not a kid.”

Bruce let out a small laugh at that and smiled as he gently pressed his fingers around Peters slightly swollen eye. “You are a kid actually. And we all know that you have superpowers but that doesn't mean you can't make mistakes or get hurt. You're not invincible and that's the part that scares Tony. Because as much as he tries he can’t protect you from everything.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, confusion clear on his face as he tried to understand. “I know I’m not invincible.”

Bruce nodded and folded his hands in his lap, done with his examination. “You chose to go with the bad guys so that Tony would be safe, because you love him and don’t want him to get hurt, right?”

Peter nodded and Bruce continued. “And if Tony did get hurt you would have been scared and felt horrible. Especially if he had gotten hurt protecting you.”

Peter nodded again, averting his eyes as he recalled the gut-wrenching fear that had taken him over when Tony had a gun pointed to his head. “Of course! I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”

Bruce kept his voice soft, wanting to be gentle with the kid because he knew his history. “Have you considered that maybe Tony feels exactly the same?”

Peter looked up at him, frowning as he shuffled up onto his elbows. “But he doesn’t have to protect me! I have my powers!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “And Tony has a literal suit of armour. A bulletproof suit.”

Peters' eyes widened and he sighed, finally getting it. They were both trying to protect the other and resenting them for it. It was exhausting. 

“Are you saying I shouldn't have gone with the bad guys?”

Bruce shook his head, pulling his eyebrows down to the tops of his glasses. “Oh definitely not! Those thugs had disabled his suit, they would have killed him! But just because it was the right call this time doesn’t mean it always is. You two need to trust each other and have a serious talk about your issues.”

Peter nodded, relieved and laid back down, folding his hands on his chest. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. He can’t focus on the fight if he’s worried about protecting me and vice versa.”

Bruce nodded and Peter sighed again, frustrated by how messy everything had gotten. “I hate worrying him and now he's angry at me and...I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

Bruce nodded and patted the kid's shoulder. “That’s a good idea. For now, you need to rest. Your eye is okay, there’s no damage but you’ll have some pretty impressive bruises.” 

Peter groaned and sat up, although it was not the first time he’d had a black eye. “Dammit, I have school.” 

Bruce ruffled the teenager's hair and repressed the urge to roll his eyes. It was funny seeing Peter bounce from being so strong he could lift cars to whining about homework he had due. The doctor wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it. 

“I know but they’ll only last a few days.” 

Peter pulled up his phone and opened the camera, turning his head this way and that to see the damage.   
“That's worse! I can’t explain why it healed so quickly!” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile, voice warm. “If you ask nicely I’m sure Natasha will help with some makeup and a few suggestions for believable lies. Now, get out of your suit and go to sleep.” 

Peter sighed, only just feeling the pull of exhaustion from the day. “Yes, Bruce.” 

The doctor left him to it, shutting the door softly behind him as Peter pulled his tired limbs up and off the bed. 

His suit was pulled off and pyjamas pulled on before he brushed his teeth, mind replaying his and Tony’s fight over and over. It wasn’t the same now that Bruce had talked to him and he thought about what Tony had said to him. Or, not what but how he’d said it. 

He hadn’t realised before but when Tony had been yelling at him he’d had sort of a...wobble to his voice. Peter had initially thought that it was just because he was so mad but after talking with Bruce it seemed maybe he’d been wrong. 

He finished his teeth and got into bed, a pit in his stomach. He shouldn’t have made light of his beat down from the bad guys, it wasn’t a joke and that had probably been the reason Tony freaked out so much in the first place. Peter had treated it like a game while Tony was practically having a panic attack thinking the worst was happening until they rescued him. 

He sighed and pulled his blankets up over his shoulders, eyes drooping. They could talk tomorrow and he’d apologise and it would all be fine. He’d make it up to Tony. 

Peter fell asleep safe in his bed while, two floors below, Tony fell asleep at his desk empty scotch glass beside him. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next morning when Peter woke, the first thing on his mind was their fight. He needed to find Tony and let him know he was sorry. 

He jumped out of bed and grabbed his clothes for school, pulling them on as he practised what he wanted to say. 

“Mr Stark, I should have taken the risks more seriously.”

He tugged his shoes on his feet and ran a comb through his curls, pressing gently at the sensitive skin around his black eye. “You were worried and I was making jokes. It wasn’t fair of me to make light of it.”

His homework went into his bag before he carefully folded his Spider-Man suit and put it in too. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I won’t- uhh, I’ll do my best to not do it again. Don’t know if I can guarantee that.”

The Avengers were milling around the compound, going about their own morning routines as Peter ran into the kitchen and grabbed some breakfast, mumbling to himself around the apple in his mouth. 

“I made the choice to go with those bad guys because I care about you and I didn’t want to see you hurt. Is that too much? Maybe I should leave that out. Hey, Steve. Hey, Sam.” He waved to the two heroes sitting at the table before finding Natasha mid-T’ai Chi practice in the compounds gym. 

He pointed to his eye. “Can you help me cover this up?” 

The assassin was happy to oblige, not having been the first time she’d had to cover a bruise. She took the kid to her room and sat him at her desk, gently dabbing concealer around his eye as he sat patiently. 

“So, you and Tony had a pretty big fight yesterday.”

Peter sighed, twisting his hands together in his lap. “I know. I’m going to say sorry.”

Natasha gently held his chin, tilting his face to a better angle as he worked on his eye. “Good. I know he yelled at you but you really scared him, Peter. You should have seen him when we showed up to rescue you. He was stuck in his disabled suit and the thugs had taken you off in a separate room. He had no way of knowing what was happening to you. For all, he knew you’d already been killed.”

Peter sighed, feeling worse the more that he thought about yesterday. “I know, I know. I screwed up. I’ll fix it, I promise. He worried me too. Why do you think I gave myself up?”

Natasha put the finishing touches on his eye and leaned back with a sigh as she shook her head. “You two go around and around in circles worrying about each other.” She smiled and gently tapped his chin. “It’s kind of cute. You’re all done.”

Peter hopped off the seat and took a look in the mirror, relieved to see his black eye completely covered. “Thank you, that looks way better!”

Natasha put her things away and nudged his back. “You’re welcome. Now, go talk to Tony. I think I saw him heading to his lab last night.”

Peter grabbed his bag and swung it onto his shoulders and went to run off, only making it halfway to the door before Natasha’s amused voice called out for him. “Did you forget something?”

Peter quickly ran back with a smile and pressed a kiss to Natasha’s cheek before running off, voice trailing after him. “Thanks, you’re the best!”

He could hear her laugh as he ran down the hallway, bag thumping against his back as he ran. He was going to have to hurry if he wanted to talk with Tony before school. He made his way to the labs, prepared speech on his tongue only to melt away when he entered. 

Tony was slumped over on his desk, fast asleep and snoring lightly. Peter quietened his footsteps, not wanting to wake his mentor. Especially not when he noticed the half empty bottle of liquor on the desk beside him. 

Peter sighed, shoulders slumping as the pit of guilt in his stomach returned. Had he really upset Tony that much? God, he sucked way more than he originally thought. 

His phone chimed in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out, sending a furtive glance to Tony in case the sound woke him. 

Txt from Happy:  
I’m waiting in the car. Hurry up, or you’ll be late.

Peter sent a quick text back and slid it back in his pocket, deciding to have his talk with Tony that afternoon when he got back. There was a little kitchenette in the corner of the lab, so Peter went and put the bottle of whiskey away and replaced it with a glass of water and a couple of pain meds to wait on the bench beside Tony for when he woke. 

Happy sent him another text telling him to hurry his ass up and Peter moved faster as he grabbed the blanket Bruce kept down there for occasions just like that one. He pulled it around his mentor's shoulders and carefully tucked him in, hand careful on Tony's shoulder. 

“I’ll see you later, Mr Stark.” His voice dipped lower, taking a breath that was heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

He left, heading off to meet Happy without Tony having woken to see him go. 

If only he’d woken up. If only he’d been able to hear Peters words or say them himself. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t have shattered inside him when he heard the news. 

Traffic was busy that day, the roads full and drivers full of rage. Peter had blocked it all out, focusing on his phone and his texts to Ned. He didn’t even see it coming.

::::::::::::

Tony woke with a jolt, snores cutting off with a snort as he jerked upright in his seat. Something was buzzing. 

He wiped the drool from his chin as the blanket around his shoulders fell to the ground. His phone was ringing, vibrating on his desk to make that awful buzzing noise. God, his head was pounding like crazy and the phone was not helping. He picked the phone up and declined it without looking at who it was, putting it screen down on the desk. 

There was a glass of water where he’d left his whiskey last night with some pills beside them and he quickly threw those down with the water. Bruce must have found him last night which meant a sorry was in order and probably a long talk about substituting alcohol for emotions but Tony was hoping he’d think his hangover was punishment enough. 

His phone buzzed again, sending the pickaxes hammering back into his skull. God, who was calling him? 

He didn’t bother checking, too annoyed and head too sore and he simply declined the call again and put it back down. He checked his watch and groaned. Peter would have gone off to school already. They’d have to have a talk after. 

“Goddammit. There you go again, Tony. Messing things up.”

He sat back down, sighing. “I’m just like my father.”  
His stomach twisted, either from guilt or the whiskey he wasn't sure but he knew he deserved it. 

He’d been such an ass, hed made Peter cry and then he’d drank himself to sleep. Some kind of mentor he was. 

His phone buzzed again, shrill and insistent and he lost his patience. He grabbed the stupid thing and threw it across the room, not bothering to see where it landed. 

He just needed quiet, he needed anti-nausea tabs and he needed to clean himself up so he could talk to Peter when he got back. He’d make it up to him, he’d apologize and explain and-

“Tony.”

The mechanic lifted his head at Steve's grim voice and found his face to be set in the same way. His eyes were pools of mournful blue as if he had bad news to tell. Why would he have bad news? 

Tony didn’t say anything, heart pounding. Steve’s eyebrows were burrowing over his eyes, mouth set in a thin line as he gripped his cell phone in front of him. Something was wrong and Tony could almost feel it coming. He could feel it in his aching chest, tearing at his insides with such intense fear that he almost threw up onto the floor. Because he knew. 

“What? Steve…?” It was almost a plea as he stood. Don’t say it. Don’t make it real. 

Steve blinked, eyes misty. He didn’t want to. But he had to and it hurt. “It’s Peter.”

Tony’s breath shook, throat closing up and he shook his head. “No. He’s not- He’s fine. He’s at school.”

Steve’s shoulders were so tense, chest puffing out as he tried to keep his own emotions in check. “He...He never made it there. Tony, there was an accident. Happy called. He was driving him to school and someone ran a red light. They were hit and…”

Tony couldn’t listen to it anymore. He couldn’t hear the words that he was sure Steve was about to say. It was too painful, especially after everything that had happened between him and Peter. 

He couldn’t do it. He ran out, leaving Steve calling for him but he didn’t turn back. He ran out of the compound, mind screaming at him and rolling Steve’s words around over and over. 

“He never made it there. They were hit. And…” And? And what? He needed to know but he hadn’t been able to stand it. 

His shoes struck the concrete, legs driving him down the pavement and he suddenly, sluggishly realised that he couldn’t run all the way there. He sucked in a ragged breath and called his suit to him, listening for the rush of it as it flew towards him and enveloped his body. 

He flew off Friday tracking Peters phone as a homing beacon. He was going to get his kid. 

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tony arrived like a bullet from a gun, spotting the wrecked car smoking in the middle of the road and soaring towards it. 

Police and firefighters were spread out, keeping people back and keeping the car from blowing up as an ambulance rested a few meters away. 

Happy ran towards him as soon as he landed, blood running down his face from a cut across his temple. His head must have hit the window on impact but other than that he looked fine. 

Tony let his mask roll down, words rushing from his mouth before he’d thought to summon them. “Happy! Where's the kid!”

And there he was begging again. Please tell me he’s alive, tell me I didn’t lose him. 

Happy’s hand reached out, pointing to the crushed beer can of a car. God, no. His voice was grim and scared. “He’s pinned. They’re working on getting him out but-”

Tony didn’t wait for him to finish, which seemed to be becoming a habit. Working on getting him out meant Peter was alive. Right? 

He ran over, heart pounding so hard in his chest he swore it would leave him bruised. There was an EMT in the back seat, hands stretched towards the other side, where Peter was trapped and she was blocking his way.

Tony had to get in, he needed to get in right that minute. 

“Please, I need to get to him!”

She turned, her brown hair pulled up out of her face and she shook her head. “Sir, I can’t let you-”

Something was expanding like a balloon in Tony’s chest. The need to see if Peter was okay, the need to protect him and make sure he wasn’t scared. It was getting bigger and bigger and if he didn’t get what he needed right that instant he was going the balloon was going to burst. 

He needed to know if Peter was alive and Tony wasn’t going to let anyone stop him. 

“He’s my kid!” The words exploded from his mouth, desperate and pleading and scared.   
“He’s my kid and we had a fight and I just need to get to him right now! Please!”

The EMT sighed and hesitated for just a moment before getting out and letting Tony in.

He didn’t waste any time, allowing his suit to unfold from him and stand sentry before he crouched and got in the back seat of the ruined car. 

Happy had been sugar coating it when he’d said Peter was pinned. The car was crumpled on his side, the other car had crashed right into his door and the metal was wrapped around him like crumpled tin foil.   
“Oh god, Pete.” 

He was a mess. The window had exploded inwards when the door was crushed and there were cuts across his forehead dripping blood, one rivulet running down the bridge of his nose while another ran down into his eye, blinding him on the right side. 

Not that it mattered, his eyes were open but they were half-lidded and glassy and he didn’t seem to notice that Tony was there. 

The mechanic scooted forward on the back seat and reached out for the teenager, hand stopping short when he realised he didn’t know where it was safe to touch. The door was caved inwards, the metal pressing against Peters right shoulder and crushing his chest. There was a c-spine collar around his neck and an oxygen mask strapped to his face, his left, unharmed arm hanging loose and limp. 

“Peter? Buddy, can you hear me?”

The teenager blinked sluggishly, forehead creasing as he let out a small pained grunt but made no indication that he’d heard Tony and instead, a different voice answered him. 

“He hit his head pretty hard in the impact. He’s not all that responsive right now but he's conscious and responsive to pain so, that’s something.”

Tony turned to the voice, seeing that it was the EMT from earlier, now leaning back from the front seat. She pulled a lever and flipped the seat up, giving her more room in the back to get to Peter without having to make Tony leave. 

She made her way back and gave him a nod. “I’m Claire.”

Tony nodded, not bothering to introduce himself. He swallowed his fear and found his voice, though it came out wobbly and quiet. “How bad is it? All of it?”

She sighed and reached toward her patient, blue latex gloves bright against her dark skin although they were smeared with blood, twisting Tony’s stomach at the sight of it. 

“I’d put his GCS at around a nine right now, which isn’t what I’d like it to be but it’s better than it was when I first arrived. If he stops reacting to pain I’ll have to classify him as being in a comatose state so, it’s important we keep talking to him.”

Tony turned back to the kid, voice rising over the noise outside, sirens and voices and machinery. “A coma? His eyes are open!”

Claire was patient, hands carefully taping down an IV line. “Yes, but if he’s not responding he’s not fully conscious. I’m sorry, I know it's hard to see. Maybe it would be best if you waited outside and let me-”

Tony frowned, anxiety revving up as he looked around. “No, I’m not leaving him. Why isn’t anyone trying to get him out? Why is he still in here? Cut him out, get that metal off him! He needs a hospital!”

Claire spread her hands in front of her, hands gentle as if trying to calm a frightened animal. “They’re trying to find the safest way of freeing him. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy as just pulling him out. With his injuries, we just don’t have a lot of options.”

There was something in her eyes, an apology that made Tony’s pulse kick up a notch. “What do you mean?”

She paused, searching his eyes for something, maybe to see if he could handle the information. Spoiler alert, he couldn't ‘handle’ it but he needed to know anyway. 

She seemed to find what she was looking for and quietly jerked her head to the car door, silently suggesting they talk where Peter couldn't hear. Tony followed her, waiting a meter away from the wreck as Claire called to the other EMT. “Can you keep talking to him? I’ll just be a second.”

Tony swallowed the anxiety threatening to choke him as she came to his side and gestured to the trapped teenager. “The metal pinning him is crushing his chest and he’s bleeding internally. The longer we wait, the more blood fills his chest cavity and the harder it is for him to breathe. He’s already on the verge of shock and he can’t afford to lose much more blood but with him pinned there's nothing I can do to stop it. He needs surgery.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat and adrenaline rushed through him for about the fourth time that morning. “Then get him out! What are you waiting for?!”

His voice rose and Claire's head snapped worriedly towards Peter who groaned again from the wreck. Tony sucked in a lungful of air and clenched his hands into fists, trying to calm down as Claire turned back to him, her voice firm but sombre. 

“We can’t. The metal is crushing him but if we remove it he’ll haemorrhage and crash. Freeing him could kill him. Within seconds.”

Tony suddenly found it very hard to breathe and his voice came out strangled and wet. “So. you’re telling me that if we leave him like this he’ll die but if we move him he’ll die? What are we supposed to do?”

Claire took a breath, shoulders slumping. She looked exhausted. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

A shaky, slightly hysterical laugh burst from Tony and his vision blurred as tears began to prick at his eyes. “You’re figuring it out? You have to do something! You can’t just stand here and let him die!”

Claire could have been offended or angry but she was patient, hands pressing to his arms reassuringly. “We are going to do everything we can to help him but we need a plan. This is a delicate situation and we need to be smart about it. If we do it right, we have a chance at saving him but I’m not going to lie, it’s not going to be easy.”

Tony felt his stomach clench and roll and he swallowed back the saliva that filled his mouth at his nausea. He wasn’t going to be sick because that would mean being away from Peter. And Peter needed him. 

He swallowed again and clenched his teeth, determined not to lose it. “What's riskier? Leaving him or getting him out?”

Claire's eyes softened a little, glad that Tony was thinking rationally and logically instead of melting into a hysterical puddle as many parents did when their children were in danger. 

“Leaving him gives us more time but he’ll get worse the more we wait, eventually he’s going to have to come out and there’ll be more blood in his chest for any minute we stall which will make it harder to save him. But if we take him out now with no plan, he’ll haemorrhage and we’ll lose him.”

She sighed, gesturing to the rescue workers scattered around close by, talking to each other and working out plans of action. “Our biggest problem is that it will take too long to cut him out. Once we get that pressure off blood will rush into his chest, we need to get him out quickly enough that I can stabilize him but none of our equipment can do that. I thought a friend of mine, Jessica, could help but she’s out of state.”

Was it all hopeless? Was this it? Tony’s dark thoughts were run through by a voice that he knew well, small and weak. 

“Get m-me out.”

Tony snapped to action, getting back to the car and into the back seat to see Peters bright eyes squinted shut, voice strangled and confused. The EMT was trying to keep the teenager calm but it wasn’t working and Claire quickly took his place as Tony picked Peters hand up off the seat where it was limply laying. 

“Hey buddy, you’re okay. Just stay still and look at me.”

Peter blinked, trying to see past the blood dripping into his right eye. “M-Mr Stark? I’m stuck. I can’t-” he whimpered, a sob choking him. “I can’t get out.”

Tony’s words got stuck for a moment as he watched Peters bottom lip wobble, tears slipping down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure how steady he could keep his voice and he did his best to compose himself as he used his sleeve to gently wipe the blood from Peters' eye. 

“I know, kiddo. But everything’s going to be alright. I’m right here and we’re going to get you out, okay?”

Peter was beginning to shake and with that movement came pain. He groaned and reached for the oxygen mask on his face, trying to pull it off. “The metal...nhgg it hurts. I don't-want this on.”  
Tony pulled his hand back down as carefully as he could, not wanting to move the kid around too much and cause more damage. “Hey, Peter, no don’t move. I need you to stay really still for me. Can you do that?”

Those brown eyes were so scared, tears spilling over as Peter tried to get in a decent breath through his crushed chest. “Okay.”

That one word was so quiet and shaky that Tony couldn’t help but lift a hand to brush Peters tears away, his own voice softening. “Hey, you don’t have to be scared, Pete. I’m gonna figure it out. We’ll get you out of here and back to the compound in no time.”

Peter dragged in another laboured breath, eyes fluttering a little as he mumbled. “Mm’sorry the car got wrecked. I didn’t...I don’t think it was my fault but…”

Tony frowned, confused. “Of course it’s not your fault. What are you talking about?”

Peter’s voice was fading, his chest too full of blood to bring in the oxygen he needed. “I...didn’t...want you...to get mad...again.”

Tony sighed, closing his eyes and hand running through his hair as he silently cursed himself. The kid was slowly asphyxiating and he was apologizing because he didn’t want Tony to yell at him again. Great mentoring, Tony. 

“Peter, I’m not mad and I wasn’t-” He opened his eyes to look at the teenager, heart clenching because Peter was no longer awake. 

His eyes were shut and he was barely breathing, little wheezes coming from behind his mask and nothing more. 

“Peter?” Tony thrust a hand forward, pressing his fingers against the kid's neck to find his pulse sluggish and erratic. 

“Claire!” 

She scrambled in the car as soon as Tony called out, voice shaky and scared. “What is it?”

Tony couldn't even get the words out. “We were talking and then he just...he’s-”

Claire reached towards her patient, eyes wide and alert. She cursed under her breath at what she found, not making Tony feel any better. “Dammit. We’re running out of time. We need to decide on a course of action now. He needs to come out of there.”

Tony looked around, out at the other rescue workers and their equipment. The machines were all too bulky, too clumsy and imprecise. They’d take too long and they didn’t have time to-

Sunlight bounced off the gleaming red and gold metal waiting outside and something clicked in his brain.

His suit was waiting just a few meters away. His super strong and amazing suit. 

He turned back to Claire, eyes wide, voice almost afraid. “I could do it.”

 

“What?”

He pointed to the suit, words hurried and trembling with both fear and excitement as something a little like hope flared up in his chest. “I could use my suit to push the metal back and you could get him out right away. No cutting or jaws of life and no waiting. You’d have time to save him. Right?”

Claire considered it, eyes flickering over her patient and running through every possibility and variable. She didn’t answer until she picked up Peters wrist, sighing quietly at his fluttery, weak pulse, noting his cold and clammy skin. 

“Okay. Let's do it. But you need to do exactly as I say.”

Tony nodded and jumped out of the car, heading straight for his suit. 

Claire was talking to the other rescue workers and EMT’s, getting everyone ready for the rescue. Peter was already going into shock, slipping silently away where he sat, trapped and they didn’t have any margin for error.

The stretcher was readied, the proper medications being pushed through Peter’s IV line and the necessary treatments prepared.

Once Tony got his suit on he crawled into the backseat as rescuers gathered around the car. He knew it was their only chance to save Peter but Tony could feel the tension in the air, heavy with the knowledge that if they messed up if they got one thing wrong or took too long then Peter would die. 

Tony looked over at Claire, who nodded, waiting to take her patient as soon as he was free.   
It was time. He’d either get him out and save him or get him out and cause his death. They were slim odds but they were out of options and out of time. 

Tony took a breath and placed his hands on the metal door crushing Peter, Fridays calculations telling him exactly where to press. 

He didn’t have time for any last words to Peter, no time to apologize or make promises so, he promised himself he would say them once Peter was saved. He would be saved. 

He pressed against the wrecked metal, the scraping, churning shriek of it hurting his ears but he kept going, suit whirring away from the exertion until it crumpled back, freeing its captive. 

Peters shoulder and chest were free, blood staining his shirt where it had cut him but that’s not what scared Tony. Friday was tracking the teenager's vitals and as soon as the metal had come off her alarms had started screaming. 

Tony moved out of the way as quick as he could, allowing Claire and her team to drag the kid out and lay him on a backboard. But as soon as they got him free, Friday's alarms were confirmed and Claire was grabbing things as she yelled. “He’s crashing!”

Bodies swarmed around the kid, laying him and the backboard on the ground and working on him with rushed, fervent hands. Things were injected into his IV and someone was yelling about intubating while another grabbed paddles to defibrillate and Tony couldn’t watch. 

Tony’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground, the metal of his suit colliding with the concrete. His mask came away from his face, making it easier to see Peter laying there, limp and vulnerable as his shirt was cut open and pulled away. 

Tony felt his breaths hitch as a tube was forced into Peter's mouth and down his throat, eyes softly closed while the c-spine collar kept his head and neck immobile. 

Claire was yelling and pressing things to Peters' chest but Tony couldn’t hear any of it, mind too overwhelmed to receive something as trivial as sound. His heart beat hard in his chest, too hard and painful and Friday may have said something about detecting coronary distress but he didn’t care. 

Because Peter was dying right in front of him and it may have been his fault. 

If he hadn’t gotten drunk maybe he and Pete would have talked, maybe it would have made him and Happy a few minutes later and they wouldn’t have been hit. If he hadn’t yelled at him Peter wouldn't be dying thinking Tony was still mad at him. 

If Tony hadn’t been the one to pull Peter out he wouldn't have been the reason he died. 

Claire pulled out the paddles and yelled out the command before pressing them to the teenager's chest. The electricity ran through him and his chest shot up before slamming back to the ground, Peters eyes still closed and Tony’s chest hurt so badly it was as if he were the one being shocked. If only. 

Friday was saying something and sending out alarms that made people's heads turn worriedly towards him but he still couldn’t take his eyes off his kid. His little hands laying limply beside him, fingers curled, palms empty and Tony wanted to hold them so bad. Just to make sure Peter wasn’t scared. 

Claires frightened face found his and her mouth opened as she yelled something that Tony couldn’t hear before she turned back to the paddles she was pressing to Peters' chest. 

Tony no longer knew what was happening. He didn’t think he was breathing anymore and his chest was being squeezed too tight as his vision blurred. Hands found his shoulders as he began to tip towards the ground, worried faces appearing above him as he was directed to the ground. 

So, he lay there as Friday retracted the suit from him, still blaring alarms but Tony ignored it all, turning his head to find Peter laying under Claire's hands as she pressed down on his chest. 

They were both dying and Tony could do nothing but stretch his arm out across the concrete, reaching for the kid that was too far away. He couldn't reach him,, couldn’t save him. He should have said his goodbyes when he’d had the chance. 

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Tony’s vision went black before he’d even closed his eyes. 

::::::::::::

Beeping pierced his aching head and Tony tried to turn away, only succeeding in turning his stomach. 

Nausea rolled up his throat and pulled at his gag reflex and suddenly Tony was sitting up and throwing up into his own lap. Or he would have if someone hadn't shoved a bucket under his chin. 

“Okay, there you go. Just let it out and try to breathe.”

A hand ran over his back as his hands pulled clumsily upwards to grip the sides of the bucket as he emptied his stomach. 

There were wires stuck to his chest and things tugging at his arms and a brief lapse in puking allowed him to peer around enough to recognise a hospital room. 

Claire was sitting beside him, gently patting his hair back with a cool cloth that felt like heaven on his skin. He heaved into the bucket again before forcing words out in between gasps for air. 

“Where’s Peter!” 

He didn’t know why he was in a hospital bed but he did remember the nightmarish image of Peter laying on the concrete, clinging to life. 

Claire’s voice was mostly drowned out by his retches but he caught the tail end. “They…-ook him…-o surgery.”

Tony shook his head, sucking in gasping breaths as he tried to control his stomach. 

“I have to call-puke-his medical team. He has-puke-”

Claire finished for him, cool cloth still wiping over his forehead and down his neck, god that felt good. “Powers, I know. First responders noticed when they arrived and since I know a lot of people with powers I was assigned to him. Not everyone can handle it and I sort of have a reputation now, I guess.”

Tony looked up at her, eyes wide with shock and she quickly amended. “Don’t worry, no one's going to tell anyone. The hospital doesn’t exactly like dealing with people with abilities so, it won’t go on his medical record and no one is allowed to say anything about it. He’s safe. I talked to the other guy in the accident, your driver, he got me in contact with your medical team and I sorted out the paperwork and everything. Your guys are already in there.”

Thankfully it seemed his stomach was finished with the spring cleaning and Tony panted as he hung his head over the bucket. “Bruce, Strange and Helen?”

The cloth came to wipe over Tony’s chin and mouth before the bucket was pulled away and he was eased back down to lay against the raised bed as Claire answered. “Yeah, Dr Strange said he’d transfer Peter once they had him stable. I don’t know how he’s going to move that kid any time in the next two days but he said he’d make it happen.”

Tony nodded and calmed his breathing down, exhausted from his puke fest. “Yeah, portals are quicker and more gentle than ambulance transfers. When he wants them to be.”

“Huh, portals. I have to admit I haven’t seen that one.”

Tony nodded, mind already back on his ward. “So, Peters okay? The last thing I remember was watching him flatline.”

Claire nodded, removing her gloves and checking his monitors. “I checked in half an hour ago and they were making headway with the bleeding.”

Tony frowned, not knowing what exactly that meant. “How long has he been in there? How long have I been here? Why am I in a bed?”

He pulled irritably at the wires stuck to his chest and the blood pressure monitor on his arm, missing the wireless equipment at the compound. 

“Just a few hours, there was a lot of-don’t touch those.” She pushed his hands away and took a breath, trying to find the right way to tell him. 

“Mr Stark, when we were trying to resuscitate Peter you had a panic attack so severe it caused a mini heart attack. Your suit alerted us right before you passed out. You’re also hungover which can’t have helped things.”

Tony looked down at his chest, lifting a hand to press over his thumping heart. Heart attack, huh? Pepper was going to kill him. 

He blinked, shoving that scary bit of info to the back of his mind as he focused on something else. “Where’s Happy? Peters driver? Is he okay?”

He felt awful for having taken so long to check but Claire just nodded. “He’s okay, he only needed a couple of butterfly bandages over his temple. Not even a concussion.”

Tony sighed in relief and rubbed a hand over his own forehead. He should have thought about it sooner but with Peter and then the apparent heart attack he’d been busy. “That’s good. I should talk to him about this whole thing soon.”

Claire moved to the door, eyebrows raised in question. “He's waiting outside. Would you like me to get him?”

Tony nodded and a second later Happy was barreling into the room, all clumsy hands and worried eyes. “Boss! Are you okay? I was calling people to sort this whole mess out and then you had the heart attack and I couldn't go in the ambulance with you and we don’t know anyone here but I couldn’t get you transferred right away and-!”

Tony winced at the rush of noise hurting his head and held out his hands. “Happy, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Happy’s forehead creased, butterfly bandages pulling along with it. “Tony, I’m so, so sorry about the car wreck. The roads were so full and this idiot just pulled right out and there was nowhere to move-”

Tony cut him off again and he briefly wondered he gave everyone the impression that he’d be mad about things they couldn't control. First Peter had apologised about the car accident and now Happy was. Did no one grasp the concept of ‘accident’? 

“Hap, stop. It's not your fault. You know you’re one of the only people I trust to drive me anywhere.”

Happy sighed, shoulders slumping in both relief and remorse. His words were quiet but they drove through Tony’s chest like ice. “I’m sorry about Peter.”

“He’s not dead. He’ll be fine.” Tony didn’t intend for his voice to be so harsh and he was sure Happy didn’t mean to imply anything. He was just so tired and everything was such a mess. 

“Sorry, it’s been a long morning.”

Happy just nodded and squared his shoulders, lifting his chin like a soldier on duty. “What do you need me to do?”

Tony let out a small smile for his friend. He was so loyal, he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Happy by his side.  
“Fill out the police report for the wreck and send it to me when it’s done. And find every first responder and EMT that worked on Peter, make sure no one talks about his abilities and his identity.”

Happy nodded and Tony continued. “Have you called anyone about this?”

The man looked down at his hands, unsure. “Steve knows which probably means the rest of the Avengers do too and I called Pepper about what happened. She’s flying back from her trip now. She should be here by tonight.”

Tony sighed, knowing she had to be losing her mind with worry. “How’d she take it?”

Happy met his eyes, words hesitant. “She yelled and then she cried and then she said that if you didn’t make it she would pull your ass back from the underworld so she could kick it for leaving her.”

Tony’s headache suddenly worsened and he closed his eyes, pressing his hand to his eyes as he groaned. “I’ll call her before she lands and make sure she isn’t worried. Can you handle the press until I sort it out with her?”

It wasn’t Happy’s area of expertise and he already had so much to deal with but he was the best, so of course, he nodded. “No problem.”

:::::::::::::::::::::

It took a while, the damage to Peters' chest being extensive enough that they lost him on the table more than once, but finally, he was stable enough for transport. Portals may not have been the most conventional way of patient transfer but it was the quickest and safest way to transfer Peter while in such a vulnerable state. 

The hospital was more than a little confused and outraged at having their facilities taken over and then having people and patients disappear but Tony didn’t care as long as Peter was safe.

Except he wasn’t safe, not really. Tony released himself from the hospital, promising Claire that he wasn’t being discharged he was just transferring to his own medical facility so that he could be with Peter. But when he got there all he got was bad news. 

“We got the bleeding under control and fixed everything we could but there was a lot of damage, Tony. There’s only so much we can do.” Bruce looked so tired and so worried Tony couldn’t bring himself to yell, although he really wanted to. 

“What are you saying? You couldn't fix him?”

Helen stepped in, her voice so soft and calm it instantly eased Tony’s headache. “We have done all that we can to save him but his lungs were compromised by the severity of the bleeding. He’s very weak and cannot be safely taken off the ventilator just yet. I have to be honest with you, Tony; the next twenty-four hours are crucial and it’s all up to him.”

He hated when people said that. ‘It’s all up to him’ just meant that they didn’t know what was going to happen. His voice was not as steady as he’d liked it to be and he slumped in his seat in the waiting room the doctors all standing in front of him. 

“So, you’re saying that even after hours of surgery and after all you’ve done for him, he still might die.”

The room was silent, all eyes glued to the floor. They didn’t want to say it but he was right. 

He took a breath, shaky and heavy with emotion as his shoulders slumped. “I could still lose him.”

Bruce knelt down in front of him as Tony’s eyes spilt over with tears, chest heaving as all the stress and fear of the day spilt out of him. His hands came up to cover his face, breaths coming as choppy pants that were getting hard to control. 

It was all too much. The mission gone wrong, the fight, the crash, the rescue. It was all crashing down on Tony and he couldn't breathe.

“Tony, you need to slow down your breathing. You can’t afford to have another panic attack right now. Your heart can’t take it.”

That was exactly how Tony felt and exactly why Tony couldn’t breathe because his heart couldn’t take it if Peter died. 

The tears continued to flow and his breaths refused to calm and his chest was starting to hurt again. “Bruce, I can’t-” 

The doctor's forehead creased and he took Tony’s wrist to press his fingers to his pulse, frowning in worry at what he found. 

“Tony, you and I are going to sit here and slow your breaths while Dr Cho gets you a sedative to calm down.”

Helen took her cue and ran to fetch it as Bruce took the seat next to his friend and held out his hand. “Here, squeeze my hand and focus on me.”

Tony took the offered hand, pressing their palms together as he shook all over, lungs aching as he tried to breathe. “Peters dying and I can’t do anything about it. You should be with him, not me.”

Bruce watched him closely, eyes full of worry as his fingers squeezed Tony’s. “He has a good chance of pulling through, Tony. And you know he’s a tough kid. Don’t give up yet. Just keep focusing on me, okay? We really need to slow your heart rate.”

Helen came back with a syringe in hand and Tony pulled in another laboured breath. “We fought and I never got to explain. I thought I’d have time, I thought I’d get a chance to make it up to him but he’s- and I can’t-” 

Helen took his arm and expertly injected the sedative, the rush of medication in Tony’s system melting his muscles after just a few moments. Bruce put an arm around him as his body began to feel heavy, directing him to lean against his chest. 

It was easier to breathe with the help of the sedative and he felt warm in Bruce’s arms but his heart was still heavy with guilt and worry for Peter. “What am I supposed to do, Bruce?”

The doctor sighed, hand running over Tony’s arm comfortingly as he answered. “Once you calm down we can go see him. But not for long, okay? You need to rest.”

Tony nodded and eased himself up to sitting, eager to go see the kid.   
When he got in there, however, it was a whole different story. Peter looked awful. As Helen had mentioned, the teenager was not breathing on his own and Tony hated to see the tube snaking from his mouth even if it was the thing keeping Peter alive. 

The cuts on his face were cleaned and covered and the blood all cleared away but he was still so pale. He lay there, bandages wrapped tightly around his right shoulder and across his chest, blankets pulled up to his waist. He looked so young, he was so young and Tony felt his throat threatening to choke him again. 

Bruce was right behind him, hand gently urging Tony forward and he obliged, making his way to the side of Peters bed. 

There was so much that he needed to say but he needed Peter to be able to hear it so he held it all in and said something else. 

“Hey, buddy. I can’t stay long or Brucie will kick my ass but I won’t be far and I’ll come back as soon as I can. So, you get better and wake up, okay? We still need to have that talk.”

Those pale hands were lying limp on the pale blue blanket and Tony made the leap and took the cold fingers in his, gently squeezing them. “You can’t leave us yet, Pete. The world still needs Spider-Man,” He sniffed, trying not to lose his cool again. “And I still need my Peter Parker.”

Bruce didn’t want to make him go but he was worried about the stress it was all putting on Tony’s heart and he patted the mechanics back. “I’m sorry, Tony. You need to rest.”

Tony sniffed his tears away and let go of the teenager's hand, laying it gently back down on the blankets before allowing Bruce to lead him out. 

They headed straight to Tony’s bedroom, Bruce easing his friend down onto the mattress before pulling his shoes and jacket off for him.

“Can I have Peters monitors synced up to my phone?” He had to ask because as Peters doctor Bruce had control over his medical information. Sure, Tony could have gotten it himself but it was more polite to ask Bruce before messing with his files and patients. 

Said doctor narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. “Only if you promise not to look at it every five minutes. You need to sleep, I’m serious. You had a heart attack today, Tony. A small one but it’s still serious. The only reason I’m not having you in the med bay is that you’d go straight to Peter's room.”

Tony didn’t deny that it was true but he did hold up his hands in surrender. “I promise. I’ll rest.”

Bruce pulled a device from his pocket as he smiled. “Good, because if you don’t, I’ll know. I’m fitting you with a heart monitor and you are not to take this off. Don’t even touch it.”

Tony nodded and sat still as Bruce stuck the sticky little circles to his chest and holding up his hand as Bruce placed one last monitor over his finger. They were wireless, unlike those annoying ones at the hospital and Tony was glad that he’d be able to sleep on his stomach without being strangled. 

Bruce diligently tucked him in, making sure he was comfy before syncing Peters monitors to Tony’s screens and Tony's monitors to his. 

“Get some rest, everything will be better in the morning.”

Tony watched Bruce leave, the door closing softly behind him. And Tony tried to sleep, he really tried but everytime his eyes closed his mind conjured up another horrible image from the day. Peter’s scared eyes when he'd realised he was trapped in the car, the blood running down his eye, the way his chest arched into the air when he was shocked and the sickening thump of it hitting the ground. 

Tony grunted, frustrated by the non-stop flow of nightmare fuel and he grabbed his phone instead, pulling up Peters monitors.

His heart rate was not as strong as it should have been and his blood oxygen levels still hadn’t come back up. 

What if he never woke up? What if he died in the night? Just slipped away, heart too weak to keep going. Tony thought he might die too. 

The thoughts and images kept coming until his head was too full and sleep was too far away to hope to grasp it. 

Tony pushed his blankets away and slipped from his bed, heading for the bottle of whiskey he had in a drawer. He got it out and set it on the vanity dresser, sitting on the little seat Pepper always sat at to do her makeup. He pulled out a glass and unscrewed the cap on the bottle, ready to drink his troubles away when his hand accidentally brushed his phone screen where it sat next to his glass. 

Suddenly his silent, dark room was filled with the soft beeping of Peters heart monitor. That kid had relied on him, had looked up to him and Tony screwed everything up and now Peter was the one paying the price. 

He reached out, fingers wrapping around the glass of the whiskey bottle but again that voice in his head told him that if he hadn’t gotten drunk that night they fought, Peter may not have been on the road when he was. He may not have gotten hit if Tony had been awake to talk to him. 

The beeping monitor filled the room, rhythmic and incessant and it was as if Peter himself was there, telling him to put the bottle down. 

His fingers fell from the glass, hands instead, pressing to his face as Tony sat there in the dark and cried. 

:::::::::::::

It took three days for Peter to get strong enough to breathe on his own and two more for him to wake up. Tony’s heart had been cleared and he was on some extra anxiety medication until things calmed down and he had been sitting next to Peter’s bed for the past few days. 

Pepper wasn’t happy about him overexerting himself but he had argued that sitting and watching the same monitor for hours on end was hardly exerting. 

He had to admit though, that his heart had quite the workout when Peter started to wake up. 

First, his heart monitor began to speed up, his breathing picking up too and then he began to shift. Tony noticed right away, leaning forward in his seat and watching the kids face eagerly for any flickering eyelids. 

“Peter? Can you hear me? Are you waking up?”

His thin fingers curled in his blankets and his forehead creased as he let out a breath. 

Tony took that as a yes and stood, trying to keep his heart rate down before his new monitor fitted watch tattled on him to Bruce. 

“Peter, come on. Open your eyes. Don’t keep me waiting any longer or I’ll go crazy.”

The kid seemed to hear him and started mumbling although it didn’t make a lot of sense. “Okay, m’up. M’coming jus’ let me sleep in for five more minutes.”

Tony’s mouth pulled up into a smile and he shook his head. This damn kid. “You’ve been in a coma for almost a week. I think that counts as a sleep in.”

That seemed to wake Peter up and he suddenly surged up, eyes snapping open. “Oh my god!”

Tony flinched at the sudden movement, hands leaping out to push Peter back down, the poor teenager groaning as it hurt his chest and shoulder. 

“Peter, stop! Don’t move around so much!”

The kid let out a small whimper of pain before his eyes went back to his mentors, pleading and worried. “Mr Stark, I’m so sorry! The car’s wrecked and- oh my god, is Happy okay?!”

Tony gently held Peter’s hands, making sure he didn’t move around too much and cause himself any damage. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine, we were just worried about you.”

Peter nodded a little, looking down at himself and assessing the damage. “I think I’m okay. It hurts a little and I remember some of the crash but...I’m okay.” Tony made a note of the pain and would ask Bruce to up the pain meds later. 

For now, Peter was looking up at him with his huge brown eyes, all sad and mopey looking.   
“Mr Stark, I am so sorry for that mission and about our fight. You were right, I should have been more careful and I should have taken it more seriously.”

Tony blinked, surprised. “Peter, why are you apologising?”

The teenager frowned, voice turned up the end in a question although his sentence wasn’t phrased as one. “Because I messed up?”

Tony shook his head, his eyes having their turn of looking sad and mopey. “No, Peter I was the one that messed up and I’ve been practising my speech for five days so just let me have the floor for a moment.”

Peter relaxed back into his bed, nodding. 

Tony hoped that after all that time he'd managed to get the words eight, and took a deep breath. “Peter, I should never have yelled at you. I’m a mess, okay? I’m not good at emotions and I drink too much and I still haven’t really grown up all the way and I’m a shitty mentor alright? My life's not worth yours, Peter. Everything I’ve done? I can never make up for that. But you can do so much good and I never want you to give that up for someone like me. You shouldn’t even be looking up to someone like me let alone risking your life and-”

Peter interjected, hating to hear his hero talk badly of himself. “No, Mr Stark don’t say that! It’s not true! You’re the one that helped me be a real hero! You made me the suit and you made sure I’d have everything I needed to stay safe!”

Tony sighed, a sad smile on his face.

“But you weren’t safe, Pete. I was so close to losing you. And it wasn’t even superhero stuff it was just a car ride to school. I couldn't protect you from that and there's always going to be things I can't protect you from,” He cleared his throat, trying to keep from blubbering in front of the kid.

“but what I can do is make sure that no matter what happens you’ll know that I care about you and there's nothing that you could do that would change that or stop me from being there for you. You got your sticky little hands onto my cold dead heart and you just won't let go.”

“I love you too, Mr Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this sorry it was so stressful lol let me know what you think?!!!


End file.
